the tenacity of innocence

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born in tentative voice…
sadly that so many sentences have
since choked quiet in this throat, scathing
self doubt daring these lips to tell.

and such beauty witnessed i abandoned to fear
forsaking my pens their ink to run bone dry,
the unrecorded curiosity of an innocent imagination.
oh.. the decades white in pages…

and creativity… the purest gift…
hidden secret in wasteful dormancy, a shroud
in numbing cloaks of self medicated apathy
a faux justification of my feigned indifference.

the stark anomaly in my bloodlines…
an empath hyper alive in insensitive worlds
of blank eyes and suspicious glances,
my vulnerability worn like a deer in the clearing.

my back has bent bearing the
weights of this artistic expectation, grieving
unrealized creativity a constant burden, spiritless
this stale soul air filling its void.

sinister angel of drought!
i hear your cruel hiss of darkness
stirring memories echoing my tragic past,
the voice that would swallow me whole.

but i have lived to see my whiskers grey, and
i see my years through the merciful memory of eyes
that never forget… the beauty they’ve seen,
because it’s my innocence i will relive fondly now.

living rightly and whole today
i stand among the alignment of stars
projecting the destiny of a Light within, knowing
my last clean breath… will hold no regrets.
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approx. 8″ x 8″ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white and black marker,
wax crayons and sourced from various Google pics
click to enlarge

my earthly Angel

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and how could it be…
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hearing only her laughter, singing
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the melody of my every dashed Hope, raining
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down in sparks and chords
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from soaring skies so high above my broken life,
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swirling past faceless strangers
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in anonymous rooms. if
.
there were other voices to hear that night
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.
these ears never heard them, and if
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there were other eyes to see,
.
mine never met them. and if
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there is a steady hand
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coloring summer days from despair, the
.
perfect cosmic hand was dealt us that night,
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a royal flush of Kings and Queens,
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of hearts and diamonds,
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of fateful serendipitous
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milliseconds
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between the lost..
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or found.
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to Scout, my earth Angel
Happy 13th Valentine’s Day
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approx, 8″ x 10*’ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white marker
sourced from a b & w selfie of Scout
and my imagination. click to enlarge.

even the sparrow….Haiku/Tanka

a relentless snow
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drifts in consuming whiteout…
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will i disappear,
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succumb to the vampire wind
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that would drain my soul to numb?
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these eyes half open
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in waking hibernation,
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this heart a frail beat.
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a frozen flatline…
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waiting in emotional
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ambiguity
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for the morning Sun
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to light… this desolate sky…
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to wake… from this sleep…
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the ambivalent
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stare dead eyed past the wounded.
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yet time and again
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your brown eyes warm my shadows,
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and mend these oft broken wings.
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Hope turns skyward now…
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beyond… this Season of Fear…
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snow… falls ever white…
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and Winter’s death has it’s Spring,
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even the sparrow… finds food.
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watercolor pencil, pencil,
black and white marker,
white acrylic paint
12″x 12″ vellum paper,
sourced from various pics
and my imagination
click for larger image

Siren of Shooting Stars

dear friends,
it’s been a long week and a longer winter.
i began daydreaming about the warm weather
and the annual vacation we take each August.
we rent a 5 bedroom houseboat on Holly Lake
in Tennessee and find our favorite cove and
tie up for 10 ten days.

this is a repost, i edited the form. it was written
in one sitting at 3am as i sat as i always do, on the
top deck while family and friends were asleep. this song
was playing in my headphones and this poem was inspired by
the incredible shower of shooting stars that crossed the sky.

please play the song and begin reading…ty and i hope you enjoy.

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when

the

S u n

is

busy

elsewhere…..

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.

and

the

night

descends

upon

your

world…

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.

in

your

S i l e n c e…

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.

in

the

S e r e n i t y

of

forgiving

S o l i t u d e…

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.

cast

away

the

fear,
.
.

just

S u r r e n d e r

your

heart

.
.

and

.
.

L i s t e n.

.
.

beg

your

eyes

to

open,

.
.

to

gaze

so

high

above

the

low

horizon.

.
.

there…

beyond

any

doubt

.
.

behind

the

shadow

of

constant

cloud,

.
.

S h e

can

be

seen

each

night

cajoling

every

S t a r

in

your

S k y.

.
.

B e l i e v e,

.
.

embrace

your

F a i t h.

.
.

S h e

is

O m n i p r e s e n t,

.
.

S h e

is

E v e r l a s t i n g.

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.

S h e

is

a

daughter

of

the

U n i v e r s e,

.
.

a

S i r e n

of

S h o o t i n g

S t a r s.

.
.

her

voice

a

chorus,

.
.

a

H a r m o n y

of

every

melody

devoted

to

.
.

L o v e.

.
.

her

history

our

yearning,

.
.

the

sum

of

our

forgotten

M e m o r y.

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.

her

shape,

a

C o s m i c

swirling

of

I n f i n i t e

density.

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.

S h e

talks

to

S t a r s,

.
.

in

the

U n i v e r s a l

language

of

L o v e,

of

.
.

R e a s s u r a n c e.

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.

a

S i r e n

offering

C o u r a g e

to

erase

their

fear.

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‘my bashful star,
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.
ready yourself for the voyage.

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.

T i m e

is

N o w.’

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‘oh, lovely star
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.
hear my song,
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.
my Melody of Love as you fly’

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‘go little star!

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blaze a trail
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.
across the midnight sky’

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.

and

become

N o w,
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.
what you were always meant to Be.’
.
.
and show this world
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.
P e r f e c t i o n,
.
.
in your moment of
.
.
E t e r n i t y.’

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